The institutional mouthpiece of Kjel.org

Stupid weather: I had to actually turn on the heat at the HQ this evening. It’s May 25th, what the hell? I was promised Global Warming, dammit. Zaffino, get on this please.

Ah, swell. I now discover that the march will just about go past the front door of my office. That’s awesome. There is nothing I love more when I am trying to work than parades of hippies with their puppets and their drums and their incredibly inventive (and persuasive!) chants.

And to think I forgot to bring my air rifle to work today. Dammit dammit dammit! I really should get one to leave at the office.

- PORTLAND, Ore. - Teresa Kaiser, the executive director of the Oregon Liquor Control Commission since 2003, has been charged with drunken driving and has resigned her post. Portland police confirmed today that Kaiser e-mailed her resignation to members of the OLCC board of directors today. Police spokesman Detective Paul Dolbey says she was stopped Saturday night near Portland’s Sellwood bridge. Sources tell KATU.com that Kaiser’s blood-alcohol level was .16, twice the legal limit.

.16 is a nice piece of drinking; no wonder she was the director. Probably for the better though that she didn’t make it to the Sellwood Bridge: driving over that thing scares the bejesus out of me sometimes, and that’s even without the nine gin and tonics first.

They’re doing something right down there in Newport. This from Katu:

- NEWPORT, Ore. - Pornography has turned into a booming business on the Oregon Coast. Spice Adult Video is the second adult “superstore” to open along Highway 101 in the past year. A third shop, Wayne’s Adult World, opened in Astoria in January 2005. The latest store has already attracted protests and even a counterprotest by teenagers with signs that said “We love porn.“

The Vietnamese place mentioned in this Oregonian account of a downtown shooting sounds nice. And authentic too:

Gunfire erupted along the downtown Portland bus mall at the start of rush hour Wednesday afternoon, leaving a 26-year-old man injured and witnesses questioning the city’s safety. . . Reports of multiple shots fired about 4 p.m. sent officers to the southwest corner of Oak Street and Fifth Avenue, in front of a Riverview Community Bank branch. . . Martin Cervantes, 26, was making salad rolls at the Traditional Vietnamese Food stand down the block when he heard three shots fired.

I wish it had continued “Further down Oak street, Tran Ngyuyen, 24, was making tacos at the Comidas Tradicionales stand and heard but did not witness the shooting.”

Why does Jr. look so concerned? Is it because the other man in the picture is finally returning to civilization after having spent some months in the wilds of Bangladesh? Is he carrying any horrible diseases? Will he be able to re-adjust to air conditioning and clean water? Did he go native and freak out, a la Colonel Kurtz in Apocalypse Now? Jr. will just have to wait and see.

That’s right, the Chief Brother in Law himself will be making an appearance in Portland later this week to regale us all with tales of certain death narrowly avoided at the hands of deadly traffic, exotic viruses, standard issue terrorists, and horrible, horrible curry.

PORTLAND, Ore. - The man who swiped a toddler from a stroller in downtown Portland on Sunday told a police detective that he planned to toss the 2-year-old girl in the front of a light-rail train, according to the arrest papers. Koon, a homeless man, told a Portland police detective that he “meant to harm the girl by throwing her in front of the train, and that he knew that it was wrong,” according to court documents. Koon did not know the child’s family, police said

Why do you think Jr. carries a switchblade when he is out on the town? This psycho wouldn’t have had a chance if he tried that kidnapping crap on the boy; Stinkboy would have cleaned him like a trout.

Jr. is talking a bit now. He says several words, like “Mommy” and “Daddy”. His first sentence though? “It ain’t nothing for me to cut you.” Not sure where he picked that up, but I may take a closer look at his daycare.

Vigilante justice is the best kind of justice:

PORTLAND, Ore. - Bystanders tackled a man who swiped a toddler from a stroller Sunday in downtown Portland, Portland police officials said. The toddler’s family was riding a MAX light-rail train while vacationing from Eastern Oregon. Randy Koon, 41, a transient, was arrested and taken to a hospital after complaining about a medical problem.
. . .
When the family exited the train in front of the downtown mall at about 3 p.m., Koon took the 2-year-old girl and ran less than 10 steps before he was tackled by three people, Kent said. The girl was not injured.

I wouldn’t be suprised if the “medical problem” Mr. Koon complained about had someting to do with the toddler’s parents repeatedly kicking him after their little girl had been rescued.

By the same company who brought down the Kingdome:

Implosion will topple Trojan’s tower
If all goes as planned, one ton of explosives will rumble near the Columbia River in early daylight on May 21, slightly tilting, then folding, the Trojan Nuclear Plant’s landmark cooling tower into a pile of concrete and steel below.
. . .
Although the tower’s implosion won’t occur until late May, the upcoming event has drawn so much interest that utility officials held a media briefing at the tower site near the town of Rainier. The event gave journalists their last chance to walk through the massive concrete and steel structure, which was shut down in 1993

Among the details:

When: Scheduled for Sunday, May 21. The specific time has yet to be set. But it will be early morning, sometime “after first light,” according to PGE officials. Thunderstorms or dense fog could cause delays.

Where: The tower rises from the Trojan Nuclear Plant site near Rainier about 40 miles northwest of Portland.

Best viewing: On your television. Spectators are discouraged from watching the real thing. Sections of U.S. 30 and the Columbia River, which run along either side of the site, will be blocked off and closed during the brief period the implosion occurs. Traffic along portions of Interstate 5 in Washington also may be temporarily halted.

What happens: An estimated 2,000 pounds of explosives will be embedded in 2,500 holes drilled into the support legs at the base of the tower and in sections of the shell as high as 250 feet. The implosion, from the first detonation to the settling of the tower, is expected to take about 8 seconds. The tower will fall into itself, and debris will be contained primarily within the structure’s imprint. The explosives’ placement is designed to give a slight tilt to the fall so that the debris will spread out slightly — perhaps 100 feet.

If I was the producer of 24 I’d find a way to work the resulting footage into an episode. Something like: terrorists take over a nuclear plant. Jack only has one option . . .

The CEO was once lucky enough to live in a house where the neighbor down the street had a pet tiger, had it as a pet until The Man made him get rid of it anyway. I think all of us who lived in that house can count ourselves fortunate that something like this never happened. Especially when walking back from the Barn.

Tiger Bites Worker at Putnam County Fair
Deputies say Jason Hardin was so drunk early Sunday morning, they threatened to arrest him if he didn’t go to bed. According to officers, Hardin agreed to head back to his trailer and walked off. But instead of going to bed, deputies say Hardin climbed over a four-foot-high security fence, walked through a grassy area, and stuck his hand into the locked cage of a four-year-old tiger. Hardin is not one of the people approved to work with the animals. He was treated for bite wounds to his forearm and hand and later released from Shands Gainesville.

More on the crazy noises I (and, fortunately for me, several other people) heard on Saturday. I blame the CIA.

PORTLAND, Ore. - The source of those mysterious rumblings over the weekend that caught the attention of so many continues to be a mystery, although there is a focus on a potential answer.

The focus is on F-15s at the Portland Air Base, which KATU News was originally told were on the ground, but we later learned were not. It turns out a group of F-15s were launched from the Portland International Airport Saturday night as part of three days of intensive training. Within an hour of their departure, people started hearing things and feeling some rumblings. That is when the 911 calls began. Even the commander of the F-15 squadron heard the strange noise from his home in Lake Oswego.

The logical explanation seemed to be that the fighter jets set off a sonic boom, but the Air National Guard says it does not make sense that so many people, from Longview to the Oregon coast, would hear the same sonic booms at the same time. A much smaller range of 10 to 20 miles is more likely.

With so many wondering what happened, the Air National Guard is continuing its investigation. That leaves others to speculate about meteors and to do comparisons with a similar unexplained phenomenon in Florida last year and in Maine just last month.

Others speculate it is a secret government plane, code-named Aurora, which supposedly flies out of Area 51 in Nevada. For years, unusually intense sonic booms rocked Los Angeles, with many believing it was Aurora passing by at four times the speed of sound.

Every now and then it’s nice to get confirmation that you are not insane.

In this case, anyway . . .

Nice work, Mathew, you’re off the hook until next year.

Stinkboy and I have been listening to a lot of Def Leppard lately. Like Daddy, he’s a Pyromania man. Not that there is anything wrong with the other albums, but Pyromania is simply untouchable. Jr agrees.

Our foray into Leppard the other night reminded me of one of my 2005 highlights, and certainly the year’s best Wednesday night:

The Chief Educator and I heard Bryan Adams from an outside table at the Kingston, across the street. We figured that was close enough. Thankfully he went on first. It was a hoary late afternoon, but our fires were kept lit. We somehow found our way into PGE just before he was done.

Leppard came on at about 7:30 or so, and played for a couple of hours. It was undescribably, unbelievably awesome. Damn I love those guys. I’m still a little bit pissed at not winning the huge Powerball last week, but when I do finally win I plan to hire Def Leppard to play a show at the Old Barn. Open bar and free nachos for anyone who can make it. You’re all invited.

Don’t anyone worry, I’ve already let Jr. know that he needs to be in earlier than normal Tuesday night.

It was a banner evening last night for the CEO: I ate twelve different cuts of meat. I had my meat sweat going by course number eight, but I didn’t slow down. The Philipino Envoy to Kjel.org was not showing weakness, so I too had to be strong. I think in the end though the roast beast humbled us both. No man can stand up too long to such a ferocious, unending parade of meat. Meat on swords carried by gauchos, I might add.

The Brazillians not only love their meat, but they love to wrap their meat in thick, thick bacon, cooked rarer than many people might like. But not too rare for the CEO; I partook with what some might call excessive vigor. I had two dreams last night: in one I was rolling around in a mud puddle. In the other I was looking for truffles. Not sure what those mean, but I woke up craving some slop.

All in all, a fine night out. Many tasty options; everyone can find something they like. A bit expensive, but a very nice room, excellent service, and for certain, nobody leaves hungry.

On Saturday my doctor said that I really need to try to make it to more all you can eat restaraunts. He’s the boss. Kjel.org is dining at a Churrasco Rodizio tonight: an all you can eat Brazilian BBQ. Frankly I can’t believe I’ve never been to one before. I’ll give a full after-action report tomorrow, if my heart doesn’t stop before then.

Apparently the Brazilians really, really, really like their meat. Good people, the Brazilians.

Presidents Day is a great holiday; who doesn’t like a three day weekend? Maybe though we could think about moving it to summer, or early fall perhaps? Yeah I know Abe and George were born on Feb 12 and Feb 22. If we’re going to lump them together anyway we might as well move the date out a few months. The first or second week of August, or the first week of October maybe? Any of those would be a nice time for a three day weekend.

MLK day is the problem: it was just a few weeks ago, and it seems like a waste to have two holidays like this so close to each other during the crappy weather time of year. Just so we’re clear, I would never intimate that the good Dr. King shouldn’t be accorded the same level of holiday props as the combined birthdays of the two most important U.S. presidents ever. Oh heavens no. I just wish his birthday was in August.

Feeling a bit gun shy, Zaffino? Everyone else is promising major snow, but you seem to be equivocating? Why might that be? Allow me to be clear: the CEO is owed a Winter Blast. Kjel.org needs a Winter Blast. Promise it already, Matthew.

Zaffino: Just make it snow already dammit. My house is up on a hill so it shouldn’t even be that difficult for you. You’ve messed about long enough this winter don’t you think?

Matt, I have a toddler now and he would really like to play in the snow. He wanted to play earlier this year too, but it was not to be . . . despite what we were told. He cried for two weeks. Does it make you feel like a big man to promise my son snow and then take it away? Does it Matt? Huh? Does it? Huh? Does it!?! Yeah, I bet. He’s just a little boy, weatherman. Make him happy for once.

The CEO has felt like crap for quite a while now, and laying around my house all weekend wasn’t making me feel any better, so yesterday I tried a new sort of treatment. There is something quite satisfying about hitting a large piece of masonry with a sledgehammer, especially if you are standing in someone else’s living room while doing it. Therapeutic even. The Chief Educator is missing one fireplace and chimney, but he has gained one hell of a rubble pile. And those marks on the floor will buff right out. I’ll bring some wood putty and a sander next time I come over.

So the Chief Educator is now the proud owner of a 5″ x 3″ hole in his roof, and a matching one in his living room ceiling. There’s a tarp over the hole though, so no heat is being lost. Not one single degree. Which is fortunate:

From KATU:

Temperatures in the area could drop into the mid-20s at night and the 30s during the day later this week.

Maybe drape two tarps over the hole.

Anyone who knows where I work will recognize that this is a monumental pain in the CEO’s ass. How am I supposed to get to the office by 10:30 if the city is going to do stuff like this? And do we really want more pedestrians and cyclists on Front Street? I nearly run someone over every day on my way to work as it is.

“Early morning, April 4, shot rings out in the Memphis sky” are of course lyrics from U2 referring to the shooting of Martin Luther King. I’d never realized before that Bono screwed that one up: King was shot in the evening, not the early morning. Turns out that Bono acknowledged his error right after the album came out, and ever since usually sings “early evening” when performing the song live. Ah, the internet: useful for something besides gambling and porn. Who knew?

On a related note I’d be surprised if Fox didn’t think twice about the opening scene of the new season of “24,” airing on the eve of MLK day and all. While April 4 1968 wasn’t gratuitously evoked, the shooting of David Palmer on the show tonight made me think of it, and trust me, I am not what most people would call a sensitive fellow on issues like this.

In retrospect 2005 turned out to be, using just about any metric you can think of, a very prosperous year for the CEO. In no small part I credit my old friend and protector, Dumb Luck. They say that eventually everyone gets what they deserve, and that idea scares the bejeesus out of me. Luckily I don’t really buy it, or else how could I sleep at night? Anyway here’s to 2006 being even better than ‘05.

I’m also very happy to note that in 2005 many a good thing came to pass for those associated with the organization. Kjel.org auxiliaries got married, bought houses, hatched or prepared to hatch kids, launched new careers, and changed over to natural gas, among other things.

This picture is apropos for the end of a great year: a happy ending to 2005 at the HQ:

You just haven’t lived until you’ve stood bracketed on the thin cement strip between the Max tracks as two trains go by in either direction. I won’t go into all the details about how it came about, but let’s just say that there was some personal negligence on the part of the CEO, primarily involving not looking both ways when he crossed a street. Or even one way for that matter.

Kjel.org naively thought last night that it could walk into Kells and enjoy a pint or two of the black before heading to the show. Several concert goers apparently had the same idea and Kells, to their great credit, took full advantage: $20 cover at the Kells door at 6:00 pm last night. The place was packed. We went down the street to McFaddens for our Guinness and Strongbow. Not quite the same though.

U2 never disappoints, even after all these years. I thought the band really shined on a couple of songs where they toned down the spectacle and then cranked it up to eleven. I agree that I Will Follow was a highlight, and Sunday Bloody Sunday another. The sound was not perfect and actually pretty muddy in parts, which really surprised me in this day and age of computerized mixing. The Rose Garden is what it is I guess. The last show I saw there was Bon Jovi, but I think maybe I assumed then that the bad sound was not unintentional.

After the show there were three thousand people trying to take the Max back to the good side of the river. Of course Tri-Met in their wisdom sent along one train along every 15 minutes. Without Tokyo-style professional subway packers, Portlanders are unable to make this sort of thing work: trains were leaving with plenty of nooks and crannies still unfilled.

Taking the advice of the CFO Kjel.org walked across the Steel Bridge instead of waiting for a train we could squeeze onto. Not a bad walk, except that of course we took the sidewalk on the wrong side of the bridge and added four dark and glamorous Old Town blocks to the journey. I almost had to wrestle a homeless woman in order to pass the corner of 4th and Flanders. Luckily she was distracted by a yelling junkie just long enough that we were able to slip past. I’m pretty sure I could have taken her.

We made it to the car and then on to the HQ without further incident. A good night all around.

Kjel.org was happy to hear that the U2 show tonight at the Rose Garden isn’t cancelled or postponed due to inclement weather. It’s nice because we want to see the show of course, but it is doubly nice because the purchase price Kjel.org actually paid for the concert tickets exceeds their face value (and hence any available refund for a cancellation) by a non-trivial number of dollars.

The set list from their show in Salt Lake last night:

City of Blinding Lights
Vertigo
Elevation
I Will Follow
Still Haven’t Found
Beautiful Day
Original of the Species
Sometimes you Can’t Make it On Your Own
Love and Peace or Else
Sunday Bloody Sunday
Bullet The Blue Sky
Miss Sarajevo
Pride in the Name of Love
Where the Streets have No Name
One

Until the End of the World
Mysterious Ways
With or Without You

Stuck in a Moment
All Because of You
Yahweh
40

Not bad at all, but tonight is the last show of the tour, so I’m told we should expect the playlist to be a bit more random, with maybe an extra encore or two — should be fun. I’ll do my best not to get up on stage again this year.

Kjel.org made a visit to the Meier and Frank downtown last night to see the Chief Holiday Elf, and visit his Land. Thinking SantaLand was on the 2nd floor I hopped onto an escalator. Then another. Then another. And so on. It turns out SantaLand is on the 10th floor. CFO and Jr. took an elevator.

Gotta hand it to Meier and Frank: the SantaLand experience is not nearly as insanity producing as the name might imply. The CEO tried to steel himself for his time in the Land of Santa. I’d even considered prepping myself Bad Santa style. However, the expected unpleasantness failed to materialize. This in part is due to Santa himself, as the way he’s built his Land is genius: while the parents hold their spot in line for pictures with the jolly old elf, restless kids can go run around in Santaland and ride the elevated monorail that runs around the whole thing, waving to mom and Mr. Claus the whole time.

The CEO appreciated Santa’s whole operation. The line moved relatively quickly, there were a lot of people there but it never seemed crowded, there was no irritating piped in holiday music, and the SantaLand staff had the whole thing down to a science. St. Nick himself was a pro, and seemed genuinely happy to be there and talk to the kids. That Santa is a stronger man than me, I tell you. He was the polar opposite of this fellow below. Polar, Santa, North Pole, get it? Man the CEO is funny.

When it was Jr.’s turn to see the Chief Elf he was not exactly thrilled, but neither did he cry or scream. It’s not often I hand him off to random old men seated in a department store (not anymore anyway, after the Nordstrom incident last summer), so I think he didn’t know just quite what to make of the situation. The CFO got some nice pictures of the boy and St. Nick with her new camera, and of course we ordered some pics from Santa’s official photographer as well.

It’s really too bad that Jr. can’t talk yet: he couldn’t tell Santa what he’d like for Christmas this year. I guess Santa won’t be coming to our house. I’m going to help Jr. leave treats out for Mr. Claus on Christmas Eve, just in case he manages to make it. Cheese, Yukon Jack and cookies. I have a feeling Santa will approve.

Kjel.org dined at the Heathman last night in honor of the CFO’s birthday. We were expecting and hoping for a bit more of a classic French menu than was offered, but it was still quite good, with the great food, professional service and well recommended wine like one would expect from such a place. As an unanticipated bonus, I took a step toward one of my lifetime goals: to eat at least one of every animal on earth.

I’ve gotten past the low hanging fruit, so to speak, and it’s rare these days that I can find a beast to consume that I have not tasted before. Last night though was special: the CFO ordered some razor clams, and I realized then that I hadn’t ever eaten one, so of course I had a few bites and moved one baby step closer to my goal. Baby steps are how I’ll get there, but a couple of safaris to different parts of the world would help too. The CEO is kind of like a reverse Noah, except not nearly as greedy — I only need one of each animal, after all.

Parked at 2nd and Davis at lunch today today I saw the damndest thing. A colleague and I walking to the deli were literally rendered speechless — our conversation stopped in mid-sentence, not to restart.

It’s probably for the better that the truck is not visible from our office. I really need to get a camera phone.

Mark Nelsen, the weatherman on channel 12 has a new blog. In it he describes how he arrived at the current forecast, but he really should be using it to make fun of other weathermen in town when they screw up. I’m looking in your direction, Zaffino.

The CEO is like channel 12 news, always digging to find you the local connection, no matter what the story. In this case, two local connections.

Like out of a spy movie, the Red Wings smuggled Sergei Fedorov away from Russia’s Red Army team as a 20-year-old. Fifteen years later and now with Columbus, the Hall of Fame-bound star will play his 1,000th game tonight against the Wild.
. . .
The place is Portland, Ore., and Fedorov is playing in the Goodwill Games. The summer before, most around the NHL thought the Red Wings had wasted a fourth-round pick by drafting Fedorov, an elite player who began playing in the Red Army at age 15. At that time, the only way a Russian player could play in the NHL was to defect from the Soviet Union.

In the months before the Games, former Red Wings assistant GM Nick Polano and vice president Jim Lites befriended a journalist who spoke Russian and had access to locker rooms. The Red Wings paid him to act as an interpreter, and he frequently would sneak messages to Fedorov. Finally, the team informed Fedorov of a cloak-and-dagger-type plan it orchestrated to sneak him away.

Before that Goodwill Games contest, Fedorov casually dropped the key to his hotel room by an elevator. The journalist picked up the key, went into his room and took his bag.

Fedorov played in the game that night and coincidentally got kicked out for high-sticking, which scared Polano. “We were concerned he changed his mind,” said Polano, now a scout with the Ottawa Senators.

But, after the game, Fedorov stuck with the plan. He returned with the team to the hotel but was the last one off the bus. As his teammates marched into a dining hall, Fedorov spotted a man — Lites — reading a newspaper in the lobby. Fedorov followed Lites out the hotel’s back door, into a limo and on to owner Mike Ilitch’s private jet.

“We had him back in Detroit before they even knew he was missing,” Polano said. “But it was stressful. In fact, the interpreter and I waited in the limo whispering and the limo driver finally turns and goes, ‘What are you guys up to? This isn’t a hit or something? I don’t want to be involved in anything like this.” Polano, laughing, said, “The guy thought we were waiting to kill somebody.”

Kjel.org is no hockey fan. Why do I even know who the hell Sergei Federov is? Oh yeah. The other local connection. The Chief Photographer was inconsolable for weeks, even with the free grief counseling provided by Kjel.org.

The CEO’s employer is hosting a formal dress Christmas party tomorrow evening at the Arlington Club. It’s very difficult for me to say the phrase “at The Arlington Club” outloud without lapsing into a Judge Shmails voice: “Gambling is illegal at Bushwood, sir . . .”

Tomorrow the CEO, Chief Educator, and many more will be there at 11:00 to open this place up. Which of us eventually leave of our own free will and which of us is asked to vacate remains to be seen.

From Hell’s heart, I stab at thee.

I was promised a Winter Blast. Where is my Winter Blast, Matt? Where is it? Where?!?

Get ready for some of the best TV of the year:

A Winter Storm Watch has been issued for the Portland area, and full Storm Team Coverage cannot be far behind. Better get those gloves and hat out of the hamper, Sussman, I expect to see you out in it. You too Zaffino. I’ll be in front of a fire, sipping wine and watching you tell me about the icy armageddon outside.

Sunday night I was on my deck cooking some steaks when I heard a rustling right behind me. I jumped and spun around. It was dark and rainy, and I had only a half-assed electric lantern outside with me. It did not put out enough light to penetrate the gloom. I could see big dark shapes, and heard something heavy moving, but couldn’t see what it was. Deer? Coyote? Sasquatch? Then they came closer . . .

Turned out that a family of these buggers was watching me and eyeing my dinner from only about 8 feet away:

Those rodents were looking to get some BBQ, but the CEO was not in a sharing mood. They were not at all afraid of me, that’s for sure: I illuminated them with my zillion candlepower spotlight (I call it Spotty) and they barely flinched. While standing between the meat and the family of thieves, I cracked open the kitchen door and asked the CFO to please run out to the garage and get me a 5 iron. She brought back a 3 wood. I shook my head. Women.

Once the vermin saw that I was armed they retreated, but I had a case of “Bionic Ear” for the rest of the night: every little rustle, every twig cracking, every leaf falling — I heard each sound very clearly. I only spun around in a kung-fu crouch for two or three of them though.

There is a Chinese place near my office where I occasionally get lunch. The woman who runs it might think she’s speaking English, but I know I do, and I can’t understand a single word she says. I always phone in my order ahead of time; the call goes something like this:

“Herro, xianging fa mao su mushu da?

“One order of General Tsao’s Chicken please, to go”

“Shouwen zixi bushou ma”

“Uh, OK, thank you.”

Whatever we are saying to each other, it seems to work: fifteen minutes later my lunch is always waiting for me there.

In my quest for ever increasing laziness, it’s rare that the CFO has constructive advice for me. In fact many of the things she proposes, promotes, or otherwise plans distinctly involve non-laziness on the CEO’s part. So I was pleasantly suprised by her latest suggestion for Kjel.org: Dream Dinners

Dream Dinners is a place that sells uncooked take-away meals. They supply all the ingredients and containers, and you go in and make the meals, according to recipes they provide. We loaded up our freezer with 12 of them last week. I was skeptical at first, but we’ve eaten four of them so far, and all have been very good. And so easy: normal cooking instructions are along the lines of: 1) Remove dinner from freezer; 2) Place dinner in oven; 3) Remove dinner from oven; 4) Eat. The perfect amount of effort for a lazy CEO.

One hour and fifteen minutes to get from the HQ to just the state of Washington yesterday at 2:30. Suck.

I envy the Chief Educator’s Thanksgiving more and more each year. Kjel.org is sponsoring the event this year even though it cannot attend. In return for providing a bird I received naming rights for the turkey fryer. I would have chosen the table, but the feast is traditionally consumed on TV trays, in front of several TV’s. No table involved.

New York, New York sandwiches and calzones have always been the traditional Kjel.org meal for football watching. However, the Chief Photographer got a calzone this weekend and was a bit disappointed. Sure, it tasted good, but a few years ago they both tasted good and were the size of a frisbee, and not one of those cheapy give-away frisbees either. Pat’s lucky I’m too afraid of him to ever complain. Sounds like maybe I should try the pizza — this is from ExtraMSG, a Portland food blog:

Pat Desiervi has the thickest New York accent I’ve seen outside a Sopranos episode. And with one of his slices in your mouth and one of his humorous anecdotes in your ears, you might just think you are in New York.

The restaurant is just south of the Terwilliger exit off I-5 on Barbur. It’s a small half-restaurant, half-bar, that only sells slices during lunch and sells out quickly.

They’re the best slices I’ve had in town, yet. The crust is too thin to be rigid, but is cooked until slightly blistered underneath and around the edges. The extra cooking enhances its flavor.

The sauce is thin but assertive, with both depth and tanginess. The cheese is flavorful with enough salt to keep it from being bland. Toppings are good as well. Pepperoni is spicy, sweet, and meaty. Mushrooms are sauteed before going on a slice to reduce water and add flavor. Like Escape, slices can be greasy. But it’s a flavorful grease.

Slices are gigantic, but also spendier than most places, starting at $3, plus $1 for each additional topping.

If you ever want to be entertained, try to convince your dining companion to special-order something vegetarian from Pat. Go on, just try it. You won’t be disappointed.

I think I frightened the Jr. VP last night.

Kjel.org bravely journeyed across the river to dine at Bridgeport with some friends of the CFO. One of them had just returned from a trip to Australia and was telling us about the things he’d seen. He mentioned that he’d seen a dingo, and that they were scary looking. At this point I made the comment “they eat babies, you know.”

Well, Jr. heard me, and despite subsequent explanations about the rarity of dingos in Western Oregon, and the fact that the HQ is nearly dingo-proof (it’s been rated as dingo resistant, to a max of 100 dingos), he freaked out. He’s not going to like the shirt I just ordered for him either. At least he is still a few weeks away from reading, and that might just be a picture of a nice little puppy dog as far as he knows.

Next time the CEO gets married I’m having this gentleman take the pictures. He has the keg-stand action shot mastered. Gonna need that one for the ceremony most likely.

After a party I once put the Kjel.org Chief Photographer in a headlock (punched him in the gut too, maybe?) for some comment he made or didn’t make about Rick Springfield. Frankly, it’s all a bit hazy, but I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: sorry dude.

Try this, preferably when no one else is watching:

1. While sitting at your desk, lift your right foot off the floor and
make clockwise circles.

2. Now, while doing this, draw the number “6″ in the air with your right
hand. Your foot will change direction.

Nothing you can do about it. Sorry.

Shamelessly lifted from Neptunus Lex, who I’m sure didn’t make it up himself.

Whoo Hoo! Free sand bags!

What would make anyone think that she’d recently taken up meth?

KOIN.com informs us that a movie will soon begin filming in Marion and Clackamas counties:

SALEM, Ore. — For the next five weeks, Marion and Clackamas counties will be hosting the filming of a new Hallmark Hall of Fame TV movie. . . .

The movie is based on a Terry Kay novel about a returning World War II veteran struggling to fit into a changed postwar world in rural North Carolina.

Marion and Clackamas counties must be very proud. It’s not every locale that can easily be made to look like postwar rural North Carolina.

Kjel.org dined last night on teri ribs from Bamboo Grove, one of the CEO’s favorites. Yet Bamboo Grove does not deliver, no organization member left the comforts of the HQ to pick up food, nor, for that matter, were any members even wearing pants when the food was procured. How did we do it you may well ask? Through the modern miracle that is Delivered Dish.

Several dozen Portland restarants are partnered with Delivered Dish, including a few of my favorites. Menu items are priced as they would be normally, and then a quite reasonable $5.50 delivery fee is added. Ordering is easy and done online, and the food tends to arrive at the HQ about 45 minutes after placing the order.

If anything it is too easy: Kjel.org is forced to exercise discipline (something in short supply around the HQ at times) in order to avoid placing five or six Delivered Dish orders every week.

If you squint a bit I think you can actually make out the beer pong table in this picture.

I leave for a decade and apparently Seattle goes all to hell. The city fathers up there should know that if they are going to continually promote policies hostile to the interests of the organization, or at least the CEO, Kjel.org will respond in kind.

For starters, don’t expect us to locate any additional satellite offices in the Seattle area. In fact, if Seattle continues to move in this direction, the organization is likely to suspend all Seattle operations and relocate our organizational infrastructure to a more refined community, like Portland. Don’t say we didn’t warn you.

Kjel.org visited Fort Clatsop last summer and had an enjoyable outing. A certain high ranking official at Kjel.org is a sucker for this type of thing; we might even have gone out there again sometime.

Some bad news then in today’s PI:

Historic fort burns to ground; cause unknown

Fort Clatsop, a popular tourist attraction and replica of where the Lewis and Clark expedition spent the soggy winter of 1805-1806 after reaching the Pacific, has been destroyed by fire, park superintendent Chip Jenkins said Tuesday.

Volunteer firefighters worked for hours Monday night to try to save the fort at the Lewis and Clark National Historic Park, Jenkins said, but “half of the fort was burned up, and the other half is essentially a loss.”

The site is being treated as a crime scene, Jenkins said, and investigators said Tuesday afternoon that they were looking for a truck seen leaving the area when firefighters arrived on scene. The vehicle is a dark-colored, newer Chevrolet truck, with the letters Z-7-1 on the rear fender, National Parks officials said.